As he spoke, the person had already gestured for Yu Wensang to follow him toward the side corridor. Yu Wensang followed him with great puzzlement. Without much thought, she found herself standing outside an ornately carved wooden pavilion door. The servant gestured for Yu Wensang to enter while stepping aside himself.

Yu Wensang hesitated slightly before stepping through the door into an elegantly decorated ancient chamber. Famous paintings hung on the walls, a cabinet against the wall held a pot of orchids about to bloom, and in the corner near the wall sat a pot of emerald green bamboo. The room contained a qin table and a complete set of pear wood chairs, tables, and stools. Plain gauze curtains and crystal bead curtains divided the room into inner and outer sections. Through the bead curtains, Yu Wensang vaguely saw a tall figure standing by the window.

With curiosity, Yu Wensang pushed aside the bead curtains and gauze drapes to see a man standing with his hands behind his back by the window. His gentle yet strong features were exceptionally perfect in the light, his brows showing contemplation tinged with melancholy. He wore a moon-white brocade robe, standing sideways as he gazed out the window. Despite the thunderous noise from outside, he remained completely unmoved, only watching calmly with a serene and restrained demeanor, like dawn moon and clear breeze, radiating noble bearing like golden halls and jade walls. Gentle? Coldly handsome? After thinking for a long time, she couldn’t find a suitable word to describe this man.

This was the man she had briefly encountered on the mortal street that day.

“You’ve come!” This was the first thing the man said as he turned toward Yu Wensang. In his faint smile, there was no distance, no formality—a naturally effortless feeling as if they had known each other for a long time. What surprised Yu Wensang even more was that this gentle, understated sentence somehow gave her a sudden sense of déjà vu.

“Yes, thank you for the invitation, young master.” Yu Wensang smiled and bowed, then walked forward to the window as well.

Looking out, the river scene spread before them. Three differently colored dragon boats were racing competitively, drum beats mixed with chanting echoing across the water. Dense crowds of various people lined both banks of the river, their cheers endless. It was extraordinarily lively.

“Which one do you think will win?” The man smiled gently, his voice exceptionally elegant and pleasant.

Yu Wensang looked at his smiling phoenix eyes, and being so close, she couldn’t help feeling her face grow warm. She quickly looked sideways at the river and laughed in response, “I guess the red boat. What about you?”

The man seemed to smile faintly as he also looked out the window, “I guess green.”

…

…

Yu Wensang looked at the three dragon boats. The green one was in last place. Though it wasn’t far behind, the men on the boat were already moving less swiftly than those on the first two boats, looking extremely tired.

Watching without comment, in just moments, all three dragon boats had approached the finish line’s water marker. A red silk banner hung from the marker—whichever dragon boat retrieved the banner would win. Just as someone on the red dragon boat reached out for the banner, unexpectedly, someone from the black dragon boat behind jumped out to block them. The two boats collided, causing everyone on board to sway violently, yet neither side would yield. At this moment, the drummer on the trailing green dragon boat suddenly beat twice heavily and shouted a command. The rowers who had seemed exhausted suddenly exerted themselves, rapidly working their oars. Before anyone could see clearly, they had thrust themselves between the two struggling boats. An agile man quickly jumped up and reached out—that silk banner was firmly grasped in his hand. The riverbanks immediately erupted in deafening cheers.

Yu Wensang looked at that dragon boat with some surprise, secretly admiring the man’s judgment. She smiled and turned sideways, “You won.”

“Lucky guess, nothing worth mentioning.” The man dismissed it with a smile, gesturing for Yu Wensang to sit in a nearby chair.

Just then, someone outside brought in a plate of river zongzi bound with colorful silk threads, bowing to Bai Zhi, “Master, the dragon boat race is finished. Now it’s time to throw the river zongzi.”

The man waved to have the river zongzi set down. “I hear that when throwing river zongzi, if you make a wish and the river god can hear your wish, they will help you achieve it.”

Yu Wensang reached out with a smile to pick up one, “I know that too. Every year during Dragon Boat Festival, my brothers take me to the riverbank to throw river zongzi, but my wishes never come true.” By the end, she couldn’t help sounding disappointed.

The man smiled faintly, looking at Yu Wensang, “Oh? What kind of wishes?”

Yu Wensang said with a grieved expression, “I wished that Father King and Mother Queen would stop confining me, but last year I was confined several times. I wished I wouldn’t have to learn qin anymore, but Father King specially got me a teacher to watch over my practice…” Yu Wensang recounted several years’ worth of wishes in one breath—not one had been fulfilled, all going against her intentions.

“Hehe… interesting, interesting. The river god must be deliberately opposing you.” As the man listened, he couldn’t help but laugh softly, his laughter bright and clear.

Yu Wensang pouted somewhat petulantly, “Hearing about my misfortune makes you quite happy.”

Seeing Yu Wensang’s expression, the man restrained his smile and bowed to her, “I was impolite. Please don’t blame me, miss.”

“Just call me A Sang.” After a slight pause, Yu Wensang looked at him again and asked, “What’s your name?”

The man smiled elegantly, “No one has ever asked my name so directly.”

“Then how do others address you?”

The man looked at Yu Wensang with a smile but didn’t answer directly. Instead, he stood and walked to the desk to begin grinding ink, saying, “I was impolite earlier. I’ll paint a picture as an apology. May I borrow the jade brush at your waist?”

Yu Wensang lent him the brush, and the man painted with flowing strokes. As the black ink was drying, he took a jade flute from nearby, bowed slightly, then raised it to his lips and began to play softly. With the shimmering water light outside the pavilion and slanted sunlight streaming into the chamber, casting patches of crimson and white on the floor, the man’s face appeared even more divinely handsome in the crimson-white sunlight, perfect as if carved from jade, with flowing radiance that one couldn’t look upon directly. She remembered a poem she had read: “Looking at those Qi banks, green bamboo luxuriant. There is that gentleman, like cutting, like filing, like carving, like polishing.”

A piece called “Linlang” surprised Yu Wensang greatly—this was exactly the melody that harmonized with her across the wall each time. Long after the piece ended, Yu Wensang still hadn’t recovered. Could he be the person who had harmonized with her several times?

She stared blankly at the celestial face before her, unable to utter a word for a long time. Only when the man smiled gently and sat down with lowered eyes did Yu Wensang realize her impropriety. Blushing, she lowered her head, picked up a river zongzi, and walked to the window. Looking at the river outside, she took a breath and threw it forcefully, “I hope for national peace and prosperity!”

After throwing it, she grabbed another and tossed it out. “I hope Father King and Queen Mother will always be healthy!”

“I hope my brothers will marry soon!”

“I hope Huayi will stop losing things!”

“I hope the flowers in Dajing Royal Palace will bloom a few more days!”

…

She threw seven or eight in one breath until she felt the man’s gaze on her back, then suddenly stopped and turned back with an awkward laugh, “Am I being a bit greedy?”

The man chuckled and shook his head, “A bit greedy indeed. They say wishes shouldn’t be spoken aloud, but you’ve said them all out loud—won’t that make them ineffective?”

Yu Wensang grinned and waved her hand, “Every year I didn’t speak them aloud, and every year they didn’t come true. Maybe the river god only receives wishes that aren’t spoken. This year I’m speaking loudly—maybe he’ll be able to hear them.”

The man smiled with the same expression, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Yu Wensang figured he didn’t believe in making wishes. Seeing one river zongzi remaining, she casually picked it up and pushed it toward the man’s hand. But when her fingers touched his hand, she felt its coldness. He quickly withdrew his hand, a flash of wariness passing through his smiling eyes.

Yu Wensang’s hand holding the river zongzi suddenly met empty air, stopping there somewhat awkwardly. The man also realized his sudden abnormal reaction and smiled unnaturally, “I was impolite.”

Yu Wensang discovered that the man extremely disliked being approached by others, even detesting others’ closeness. She forced an unnatural smile and turned her face toward the window, pretending to watch the river. The man also turned to look outside, his eyes slightly lowered, his eyelashes casting a crescent of shadow before his eyes.

Just then, Yu Wensang’s gaze accidentally fell on the man’s waist. A sword hung there, and the ornament on the sword was a piece of transparent jade carved with half a peach blossom so lifelike it could fool the eye. Yu Wensang couldn’t help raising her hand to cover the front of her robe. He was the owner of the other half of the jade! Yu Wensang looked at him with tremendous shock in her heart. Fortunately, he only kept his gaze on the window and didn’t notice Yu Wensang’s unusual behavior.